I sprint over the rooftops, hopping from one to another, chasing down the fleeing Mysterio. He's quick, and he knows the streets, but I'm better at tracking than he is at fleeing.

In the alley below, I see the telltale sign of Mysterio's hood glowing in the darkness. Vaulting myself off the roof towards the fleeing criminal below, I fire my grapnel into the fire escape, catching my momentum and allowing me to tackle Beck without seriously injuring him.

He hits the ground hard, turns around and attempts to back away from me, "N-n-n-o...it's not supposed to be like this. It's not supposed-"

"It's never supposed to end like this, Beck," I say, growling at the man. He goes to spray me with more of his gas. But instead, I grab his wrists, crushing the gauntlets on them, stemming the flood of gas. "But id does. Even for the crazies like you."

"You can't send me to jail...you can't," he stammers. The fear in his eyes is unmistakable.

"That's not for me to decide."

"But I won't last there. Falcone! Falcone! Did you get him!?" he says desperately.

Narrowing my eyes at him, I respond, "I don't know. I sent some of the cops after him."

"What if I testify against him! Couldn't that save me!? Please!"

I stand there, over the cowering form of a criminal that had power over me only a few moments ago, the tremors of fear taking over his body. This was once a man with dreams and hopes, destroyed by the scum that run Gotham City. This is the face of what I'm fighting. There are hundreds, possibly thousands of Quentin Becks in Gotham. And to all of them, I'm not enemy number one.

**********

"Don't you let him get away, Harvey," Jim Gordon says to his partner as they speed after Carmine Falcone's feeing car. "Don't you let him get away."

The two have been speeding after Falcone on the streets of Gotham since leaving the Batman in the fog covered street outside Quentin Beck's shop. The mobster is scared. He's almost hit two people already, and he's willing to risk the possibility of hitting more.

That means the man knows he's guilty. And that means they can take one of Gotham's crime lords off the street.

"He ain't gettin' away," Harvey Bullock responds through gritted teeth in the driver's seat. He turns hard to follow Falcone's car down an alleyway. As they do, someone leans out of the gangster's car and fires a few rounds their way, bounding harmlessly off the side of the cops' vehicles.

"Those won't be the last bullets we deal with if we keep doin' this, Jimmy."

"Yea, but we could also die heroes, Harv," Gordon responds with a slight smile, and returns fire at the mob's car, hitting one of the tires.

The car slides out of control, slamming into a wall. The two cops get out, pushing up towards the car carefully, guns drawn. Inside, they see three occupants, all injured, but not majorly.

Gordon swings open the door, and slaps cuffs on the leader, "Carmine Falcone, you have the right to remain silent..."

**********

In a darkened alley, I wait for Gordon. Like clockwork, his car pulls into his normal parking spot, and as he walks towards his apartment building, something draws his eye.

A chalk bat I drew on the wall near the alley. He turns down it, and says, "Hell of a night, huh?"

"You have no idea," I respond gruffly.

"Bullock says you're going to get us killed," he says, a bit of worry in his voice. "Us taking down Falcone...that's gonna put heat on us."

"They won't risk harming you," I respond, confident I know how the mob will react. "Not with Falcone in custody."

"And what happens when he makes bail?"

"I'll make sure they're more worried about me than you."

"And what about Beck? Guy seems to want to testify."

"That's up to you. Keep him in solitary. Keep him away from Falcone's men on the inside. Do whatever you have to."

"Who are we going to get to prosecute? No one in this town has the balls to try and put away a boss."

"I'll figure it out and let you know," I say as I silently make my exit, leaving Gordon alone, but confident, yet again.

**********

In a darkened interrogation cell, much like the one in which he killed Eddie Skeevers, Quentin Beck sits waiting. He knows he's marked for death. He knows that he will be dead sooner rather than later. Whether by some corrupt Gotham cop or one of Falcone's men in prison, he'll have a knife in his back soon.

But when the door opens to the cell, a wiry, middle aged man in a tweed jacket enters, and places a file on the table. He sits down across from the magician and folds his spindly hands after quickly adjusting his glasses. With a smile he says, "Hello, Mr. Beck."

"Who're you?" Mysterio asks with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm here for your psychiatric evaluation. Make sure you're all there up top."